


Can You Tell Me Which Flower's Going to Grow?

by colazitron



Series: Fic Advent 2013 [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a distinct lack of Harry on the sofa when Nick wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Tell Me Which Flower's Going to Grow?

Harry Styles had done plenty things last night worthy of going down in Nick Grimshaw's memory. He'd dressed up as one third of Hanson, complete with denim shorts, tennis socks and a luscious blond wig that honestly suited him about fifty shades too well. He'd put on an elephant head. He'd turned down some bird's offer to take him home with 'I'm here with someone'. Which. He _had_ been. With Nick. But not _with_ Nick. What took the bloody cake though was when, stumbling out of the cab that had taken them back to Nick's place, he'd looked at Nick with half drunk-glassy, half starry-eyed eyes and said, 'If I'd asked, would this have been our first date?' Nick had snorted a laugh, rolled his eyes and said 'sure, popstar' but the sarcasm must've gotten lost in translation (and alcohol) somewhere because then. Well. Then Nick had closed the door behind them and when he'd looked up, Harry had smiled at him, all big and genuine like he does. Before Nick had been able to say anything else, Harry had grabbed hold of his face and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

 

And Nick had. Well. He'd kissed him back.

 

Now, in the light of day, waking up on the couch he remembers Harry having pulled him down onto to very thoroughly _snog his face off_ , he doesn't feel that great about it. Not bad, because Harry had initiated it and if he was going to hold it against Nick then he shouldn't have bloody started it, should he. But. Well. Nick had woken up remembering Harry falling asleep piled half on top of him and there was a distinct lack of Harry on the sofa now. Puppy had jumped up to lie on his legs. At least she was a loyal soul.

 

Nick was just about to formulate a way to spend the day forgetting what happened when Harry appeared in the doorway leading - ultimately - to the kitchen, looking like a vision. Soft, worn joggers (Nick's), an equally soft and worn t-shirt (one of Harry's that he'd forgotten/left at Nick's _ages_ ago) and a cup of tea in each hand. The sun fell through the window and bounced off his hair and smile like he'd planned it. Nick couldn't help but laugh and hide his eyes behind his hand.

 

"Hey," Harry said, but then chuckled and - judging by the sofa dipping - came to sit by Nick. Nick lowered his hand and Harry had seemingly set the tea down somewhere, reaching to hold Nick's hand in his.

 

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Harry asked.

 

"Probably," Nick said, unsure whether Harry was referring to the date comment pre-kiss or any of the feverish mumblings that had fallen from his lips between then and their falling asleep. Harry seemed to understand well enough.

 

"Good," he said. "Me too."

 

Great as the kisses last night had been, the ones this morning topped them easily.

 

  **The End**  



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